


Love Like You'll Never be Hurt

by orphan_account



Category: citrus - サブロウタ | citrus - Saburouta
Genre: F/F, No Incest, No abused Mei, She still has abandonment and interpersonal issues tho, alternative universe, them girls are all in their 28-30s jsyk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Amamiya starts to slip. His appearances in public are not as ironclad as they used to be. He’s growing lax, not covering his tracks with his mistress properly, gets irritable at Mei in public for no apparent reason — which the tabloids love. He threatens divorce and to go public with their arrangement.As Mei has to deal with her husband’s fuck ups and make excuses in his place she meets a young woman who might as well be the final nail to the coffin to her careful and fastidious plans. What’s worse, Mei might even go as far as falling in love for the girl herself.or: the inevitability that love is an impossible statistic to hide from.





	Love Like You'll Never be Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: I really hate to be that kind of author that puts a ? to the number of chapters of their fics, but in this case it'll have to be done. I literally have no clue how many chapters this will have. This is the first time I'm planning a fic from beginning to end, with very minimal winging-it. So this is completely different from anything I've done before. 
> 
> I am not Japanese nor am I familiar to it's places, so everything that's remotely geographic that features in this fic was done with google in mind, I am deeply sorry if I wrote something wrong due to internet's misinformation.
> 
> Thirdly, I am not a culturally refined person nor do I have the intention to pretend that I know about... much of anything really so I'll be posting where I grabbed quotes and definitions from. 
> 
> Title is a quote from William W. Purkey: “You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, love like you'll never be hurt, sing like there's nobody listening, and live like it's heaven on earth.” (Goodreads.com)

 

 

 

 

 

> _Ante._
> 
> _The up-front cost of a bet: the money you must pay to play the game. From Latin for "before."_

 

Yuzu arrives at the restaurant a good half hour before her shift starts, right as the rush hour takes over the subway lines. The panoramic view of the city’s skyscrapers greets her through panel glass windows. Once the sun starts setting, Tokyo’s nightlights will gradually drown out the stars and then there will be an entire backdrop of inky night over glittering shapes of the city.

The interior of the restaurant seemed to be divided into two parts, both arranged in deep red-brown wood tiles and sleek black tables with dim amber lightning and a soft lantern placed atop each table. A cocktail bar acted as a partition between the tables being set at her right and the lounge space filled with black cushioned booths facing the wide pane windows.

Taking in the place, she starts looking around for a familiar face, stepping further inside to try and recognize the waitstaff roaming about preparing the place, failing to notice a fast approaching human shape pouncing at her side until it was too late.

“Yuzuchi!” Harumi squeals in excitement, tackling Yuzu as the blonde yelps trying to keep her balance.

With her arms full of Harumi’s waist and Harumi’s own against her neck, Yuzu gives a couple wonky steps to the left, scrambling to keep them both upright. “ _Harumin”_ , she spits some of the girl’s hair from her mouth, “get _off_!”

She hangs on to Yuzu tighter, burying her face on Yuzu’s neck.

In a desperate attempt to not fall on a heap on the floor with her friend on top of her, Yuzu throws her arm behind her instinctively, connecting and then splaying her hand against one of the restaurant’s walls. Crisis averted, she breathes out in relief.

Harumi hasn’t let up her grip one bit. Yuzu doesn’t tell her to get off either.

She’s breathing hard, glasses askew, can feel her left earring tangled on Harumi’s dark hair, eyeliner smudged into oblivion probably, her friend’s perfume currently etched on her nose and she has — she holds her left wrist up to look at her watch — great, less than twenty five minutes to be briefed in about the restaurant’s policy and get ready for work. _Again_.

Yuzu lets her left arm fall again on Harumi’s waist. They have yet to move an inch from their spot. She feels the weight of Harumi’s hand down at her front where she is gripping fistfuls of her collar, tight as it will go without tearing. “You’re ruining my dress, you know.” She comments with no bite and incapable to fight off the smile on her voice.

Harumi nuzzles her face against Yuzu’s neck.

“Oh shush, you love me.” She pauses, content to be left where she is. “Those clothes aren’t exactly work-approved either. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

Yuzu can feel the warmth radiating off of Harumi, her breath as their fronts press together and the encircling arms around Yuzu’s neck, keeping them centered, like Harumi’s presence could be capable of erasing all of Yuzu’s troubles. And maybe it's because of this, because she missed her friend so much that despite the harrowing pressure to move and get started on her new job, Yuzu can’t quite care to let go of Harumi just yet.

“So,” she says, glancing at the ceiling’s soft lights, “you missed me?”.

Harumi openly scoffs and it’s a sound so characteristic, Yuzu half wonders if really has it been that long.

“Only for eight years.”

“I skyped you!”

Harumi raises her head to look on Yuzu’s eyes, their faces close together. “It only counts when it’s in person.”

Yuzu gives a noncommittal hum, tilting her head sideways, studies her friend’s face intently. “Eight years huh?” She asks distractedly, although not unaware of the time that had passed.

Harumi nods solemnly, “Eight years.”

She thinks back about their high school days, detention and having to clean up the school bathrooms as punishment for setting up a karaoke session on the teacher’s laptop during recess. She recalls being suspended for a week once and not telling ma about it and going to class anyway, how Harumi had to boost her up for a week so she could climb up the school walls. How Harumi always saw through all the breakups she ever had with her boyfriends and not leaving when Yuzu inevitably had a crush on her best friend and the coming out process afterwards — both to her mother and then Harumi, not exactly in that order.

Harumi being the first person Yuzu confessed that maybe there was a reason she kept breaking up with her boyfriends and how they all seemed to be more in love with her than she ever was with any of them. How she never seemed to like the sex but got such a thrill when she and Harumi drunkenly kissed one time at a bar.

(She never claimed to _not_ be a total stereotype. Gyarus kind of relied on those from time to time.)

But most of all Yuzu remembers that, wherever she went Harumi seemed to follow.

Cramming for finals, surviving on instant ramen because they both had terrible preservational instincts and spent their collective first salary at the mall. Power naps between study sessions, breaking into the university’s cafeteria to brew coffee at 3am because their coffee maker Suzannah had an unfortunate lesbian love incident with their shared curling iron (Jessica).

Or all the other times they shared a line at the bank so even if they were bored to death, they were bored to death together.

All those times, together.

Together up until their graduation day, where their lives set apart for a while and nothing outside skype sessions a couple hours every month at a time seemed to work for them.

Harumi had the family's restaurant to look after and Yuzu–

Her life was a mess for a while. (Still is some part of one, but getting better each day for the past six years). They both ended up allowing their work life to take precedence, forgetting to make effort for their friendship.

It was then and there, with a resolute glint on her eyes, that Yuzu made a decision.

“Well then!” she exclaims, de-tangling herself from her friend and falling onto one knee. Takes Harumi’s hand on her own and looks up to find her friend lifting one inquisitive eyebrow at her.

“Harumi Taniguchi — don’t look at me like that — will you give me the honor to be my friend and coworker on one of the most shitfuck fancy restaurants of all Tokyo for the rest of our lives, or however long I can keep here before getting kicked out?” She smiles brilliantly at her friend.

Rather than answer, although with genuine teary eyes, Harumi takes her hand from Yuzu’s hands, fiddles with her hair until Yuzu’s raindrop earring untangles from her head and places the hook of it on her ring finger. Then she gives her hand back for Yuzu to hold.

“Yuzu Okogi,” she says, as somber as she can muster, looks deep into Yuzu’s clear green eyes and tries to keep her composure, “I do.”

They both last for five seconds before they’re reeling from laughter, clutching to each other for breath for dear life.

 

* * *

 

It is a Friday, and it's Spring, so with most Fridays on a Spring the restaurant found itself naturally crowded.

Yuzu had previously stepped out of her dress and now donned a simple white button up sleeved shirt, black tie, black pants together with a waist apron and a vest. The only item of clothing that remained unchanged were her black low heel pumps. She finished tying her dyed blonde hair back in a practical ponytail as she surveyed the now crowded space before her, from the cocktail bar.

Harumi gave Yuzu a few consoling taps on her shoulder, observing the woman scan her eyes over the packed movement of businessmen and well dressed tourists alike; with a table far back congratulating the recently engaged couple beside them, as the man proposed to his beloved in hushed tones and soft smiles. The man at his side kissed him as he accepted the ring into his finger.

“Don't worry Yuzuchi, you'll do great. You have a better résumé than most of our waitstaff usually starts with.”

Yuzu frowns but doesn't look away from the sight of the engaged couple. “That's not what I'm worried about. I like that I'm starting with a different clientele.” Although there is nothing on her voice to suggest it, Harumi particularly takes on the feeling Yuzu meant _rich_.

She snorts. “Yeah who doesn't like fat tips?”

Still not tearing her eyes away from the couple she says, “Not what I meant.” distractedly.

Harumi looks to the couple, then back at Yuzu. She brings her fingers in front of Yuzu’s face and snaps them in front of her eyes, trying to catch her attention. “Hey, don't go brooding on me on our first day of work together.”

That seems to lift her from her thoughts. She still won't meet the brunette’s yes.

“Sorry”, she gruffs out.

Doesn't elaborate.

 _Okay_ , Harumi thinks, _that's new._

“Hey,” she waits for Yuzu to look at her, “hey, look at me. No, not to the side, to me, yeah that's it. What's wrong?” Harumi crosses her arms.

Yuzu licks and purses her lips, looks over Harumi’s head for a beat of a second, then back at her. She tucks a stray golden lock behind her ear. Puts her hands on her pockets. “It's nothing.”

“Don't bullshit me, what is it?”

“No, I mean– it's–” she looks over Harumi’s head a second time, frowns, “that woman has been there a while.”

Harumi turns around the direction Yuzu’s eyes seem to be held at. Recognition paints her features.

“Oh it's today already?”

Yuzu gives Harumi a questioning gaze, “What's today?”

The brunette nods to the lounge’s portion of the restaurant, with the wide pane windows facing Tokyo, directioned to the booth right across from them. There, with the window at her back, the cushioned seat in front of her empty, sits a woman in a pearly white sleeveless mini dress and designer heels. Staring at them. “ _That's_ today.”

“You're not being any less cryptic you know that right?”

“That's– oh nevermind she's flagging us over, here.” She thrusts a pen and a black leathered pad to Yuzu’s chest. “Go earn your pay, preferably before grandma develops the ability for telekinesis and rips our heads from our bodies with a single look”

Snorting, Yuzu takes the pad and the pen and drops a parting kiss on Harumi’s cheek.

As she's making her way to the woman's booth, Yuzu chances a glance at the maitre’d stand on the restaurant’s entrance, gulps, and ducks properly out of the sight of a very stern middle aged woman dressed in an impeccable black suit, short hair and heels; giving her the nasty eye.

Best not test the patience of the woman that signs her checks, especially during her very first day of work.

She approaches the woman's table, hopefully with her head still attached.

The booth stands facing the window, closely connected to the view of the city below and it paints the best picture to observe. Right in the middle of the huge panel closed-off glass Minato district unfurls itself from eyesight from each side, Tokyo Tower a beacon of spreading light, sitting slightly to the left of the scenery, and the restaurant, expertly built to absorb its entirety.

Yuzu has been working there for less than a day but she could tell — from years of experience under her belt — that this was one of the best places the restaurant could offer.

It stood much as the view from Tokyo did, right at the heart of their establishment, public and observable.

Much as the woman currently occupying its seat.

She sat on one of the sides of the cushioned booth with her back facing the view. Her eyes, however, seemed to take the restaurant in. As if the view in front of her held more right of scrutiny than the one at her shoulders. Yuzu, though curious as she was, couldn’t blame her. She _loved_ the city. To love something quite as loud as a metropolis, you needed first and foremost, to love the people living in it.

Still, to come all the way to the forty-first floor, handpick one of their most select seats at the most secluded area the restaurant afforded, at a table for two, just to ignore the sight—

 _Businesswoman._ Yuzu decided, _still doing her hours._

She came to a stop just at the edge of the booth, standing diagonally to the businesswoman so she wouldn’t obstruct the view her customer carefully constructed for herself.

“Good evening ma’am and welcome.” Yuzu said as she bowed, having yet to take a proper look of her customer. “Thank you for choosing us tonight.”

When she did, she almost choked on her tongue.

Saying the woman in front of her was gorgeous would oversimplify Yuzu’s shock.

The brunette with silky black hair and lavender eyes, mouth painted in muted red lipstick, nods appreciatively back and places her order in a low, honey-soft voice.

“The newspaper, if you please.”

She’s wearing a form fitting bride-white sleeveless dress that reaches two inches above her thighs, no stockings and white ankle-strap four inch heels. Small studded jewel earrings on the form of gardenia buds presented themselves as the business woman tucked her hair behind both ears. On her neck, a thin white silk thread, resting just above her collarbones, acting as a choker.

She has legs for miles, sculpted calves, a soft arched nose above full lips with a small porcelain-like mouth that smiled little, but seemed to frown much more. High, pale cheekbones, delicate round cheeks descending into an angular jaw that connected with a long and slender neck. Tucked through the delicate V neckline, sharp collar bones jutted slightly out of the woman’s dress, accentuated by the white choker she wore.

It takes Yuzu around four heartbeats too long to reply. The woman eyes her with cool inquisitiveness, the slightest curve of eyebrow. Unmoving.

She snaps herself out of it with a dry mouth and a squeaked “Right away ma’am”, refusing to make eye contact, Yuzu bows and hastily takes her leave, almost tripping on her pumps during her retreat.

Heart hammering in her chest and not daring to cross Harumi’s eyes nor her grandmother’s, Yuzu beelines her way into the service area, where the manager’s office is located and, ultimately, where they keep copies of the day’s newspaper for customers perusal. Passing through the cocktail bar she crosses her way into the restaurant, into a little door by the southernmost side of it, opens it, slams it closed without quite realizing the force she used and locks it for good measure.

Releasing a long breath she didn’t recognize she was holding, she slides down to the tiled wood floor, back connected to the office’s door.

Well, that wasn’t a disaster at all.

“Oh what the fuck” Yuzu said, half to the empty office, half to herself. “Get a grip. You can’t have a gay meltdown every time a stunning CEO dresses appropriately to charm her ass into a business deal.”

By her left side, on her vest pocket, she felt her phone buzz.

[Tanigucci, 22:45]

_hey, like, I know that your hardass San'ya types aren’t 2 used w the good life but u DO need to find a better way 2 hide your roots. If you ran away everytime an alluring rich woman looks at you you’d be fired by the end of the day._

Yuzu snorts, heart starting to ease up on her chest as she types her reply.

_excuuuuuse me miss jiyugaoka, but just bc I’m not 2 used to your overpompous asses it don’t mean I can’t hold my ground w daisyhands for a handshake._

Sniggering, she typed a second reply below.

_I assure u, I am at the PEAK of my game rn._

Harumi’s reply buzzed in a heartbeat later.

[Tanigucci, 22:46]

_yea precisely why ur contact info on my phone is ‘Yuzeful Lesbian’._

Then.

[Tanigucci, 22:47]

_sarcasm._

Chuckling but hardly offended Yuzu sent out a _will b out in a sec_ , as she picked herself off the floor.

[Tanigucci, 22:48]

_u better, grandma will b pissed at us both 4 neglecting the customers. oh speak of the devil, gotta go, don’t die in there or anythin._

Taking in the cramped office, with file cabinets taking over most of the space, a desktop computer placed at the furthest corner it could fit with barely any room to slot between the chair and the desk and papers stacked about on top of it in a dangerous pile looking like the smallest intake of breath would send the whole thing tumbling down, Yuzu wasn’t so certain the feat of surviving Harumi’s grandmother’s office would be easy.

At her best days she was a klutz. This was going to be a disaster, Yuzu was sure of it.

Doing her best to look about the room, Yuzu scanned the cabinet files, looking for the one where she was told they kept the newspapers. After maybe three minutes of endless perusing, coming empty, she had half a mind to go to one of the floors below — where several companies rented the required office space — and ask one of the overtime workers, or a secretary, if they could maybe borrow their office’s copy real quick when, there, at the furthest reaches of this impossibly tiny yet somehow absurdly overflowing room, Yuzu saw, to her eternal dismay, the file cabinet she was looking for.

Labeled in neat italics _newspaper_ , the cabinet was placed on the right of the desk overflowing with stacked papers, with nigh enough space to maneuver between the computer and chair without disturbing the high pile, to _then_ get to the other side of the desk to open the cabinet file and look for the day’s delivered paper. By then she was sure the carefully aligned building of documents would surely come crumbling down because, the only thing keeping the pile upright was the closed cabinet itself.

Who had the idea to put that blasted cabinet behind the desk, she needed to know, so she could murder them in their sleep.

“Great.” Yuzu said, exasperated. “You’ll never get out of here alive.”

She’d either die buried in stacks of paper and filing cabinets or by blood loss with the amount of paper cuts she’d get by moving the Empire State document miniature.

She sighed. The clock was ticking on her and this was her very first day at work on one of the most refined restaurants Tokyo could offer. She had just reconnected with her best friend in the entire world and they were finally _finally_ be able to have normal timed interactions because their work schedule was _literally_ the same. She wouldn’t let a carefully planned papercut timebomb such as this office to stand in the way of a good first service and years to come of Harumi-Yuzu outings.

She wouldn’t let that—that— _woman_ with her perfect legs and sad eyes to stand in the way of her and Harumi’s happiness.

 _She wants the newspaper,_ Yuzu bristled; straightening her vest, pushing her sleeves to her elbows and re-tying her hair back in a higher ponytail, _I’ll get her the fucking newspaper._

Staring intently at her second enemy for the night, she announced resolutely to the stack in front of her.

 

“World of pain and papercuts, here we go.”

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.stat.berkeley.edu/~stark/SticiGui/Text/gloss.htm (Glossary of Statistical Terms used on this fic.)
> 
> Please, please, please take your time to comment! I worked very hard on this chapter, and I naturally have a lot of self doubts regarding the flow of my writing - I am not a english native speaker and I'm pursuing an undergrad as a film major so writing fics is how I get the chance to stretch my writer's toes, especially in a different language - so commenting on what you liked about the story will really help me give the motivation to keep going.


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